Hailing A Date
NY Jewish Week–First Person Singular
September 15, 2006
One of the biggest transportation mistakes that new arrivals to New York make is trying to hail a cab that’s already full. As taxi after taxi zips by, they begin to wonder what’s wrong with them. “People catch cabs in the city every day; why won’t any of them stop for me?” The answer, they soon learn, is simple: Those cabs are already otherwise occupied — there’s no room for you inside.

Import the metaphor to the dating realm and you’ll wonder why you didn’t think of it sooner. Cabs, like people, have to be available before you can snag one going your way. While I’d like to take credit for this analogy, I can’t. That honor belongs to Nancy Slotnick, professional dating coach and author of the recently published “Turn Your Cablight On: Get Your Dream Man in 6 Months or Less” (Penguin).

In her “former life,” Slotnick was a corporate recruiter, but tired of talking about people’s jobs. “What’s the most important component to people’s happiness? Their love life. But there’s a big stigma in admitting that you’re single and looking — as if they’re saying that they need someone to be complete,” Slotnick observes. “If you really want to be with someone, you have to show you’re available and turn your light on. If your light isn’t on, then no one is going to flag you down.”

Seems simple enough — turn on light, admit you’re looking and get dates, right? But some of those cabs you see down the road — their lights seemingly ablaze to indicate availability — are actually sporting “off-duty” lights. Only when they’re right in front of you can you tell “available” from “off-duty.” And by that point, you just really want someone to take you home.

But New Yorkers have high standards in terms of jobs and (when budget permits) apartments, and usually have attained some success in those fields. Why not apply the winning standards and strategies to dating? “What works in business — being assertive and aggressive, getting training, etc. — doesn’t necessarily work in dating,” Slotnick says. “You could be doing everything right and if it’s just not the right fit, it won’t work.”

If Slotnick’s name sounds familiar, you’re probably remembering the first stage of her singles-related enterprises: Amsterdam Avenue’s beloved Drip Café, home of Rice Krispy Treats, specialty coffee beverages and, of course, “Drip Dating.” Taking a literal page out of the online dating book, Drip patrons completed questionnaires, which were collected with others of its ilk (Male Seeking Female, Female Seeking Male, etc.) and inserted into one of a veritable library of binders, kept on site at the coffee shop for perusal by the perpetually thirsty. Insatiable local singles became reliant on Drip’s combination of beverages as refreshment and binders as entertainment and, some hoped, romance.

One striking thing about these questionnaires was the presence of three options under the “looks” category of — “matter,” “don’t matter,” and “shouldn’t matter but they do.” “In a perfect world,” Slotnick admits, “people wouldn’t put so much importance on looks. But do you want it to be fair or do you want to be happy? Instead of complaining about it, you just have to face facts.”

One New York fact is that even beloved neighborhood businesses close. Much to the chagrin of area singles, Drip closed in 2004 after eight years. But with over 165 known marriages (and Slotnick estimates that the real number could be almost double that), the business was, by many counts, a success.

Slotnick is now back to recruiting of a sort, identifying candidates for her special Most Eligible Program, which promises to help participants find “the one” in six months, with 15 hours a week designated for dating-related activities (see her Web site www.cablight.com). If participants balk at the time commitment, Slotnick has her answer ready. “If you were in a good relationship, wouldn’t you want to spend that kind of time with your partner? You would,” she affirms. “New Yorkers make themselves so busy that they don’t even have time to meet someone and make things happen. When I was running Drip, I was in the middle of a singles café. But I was the datemaker that didn’t have any dates. I always expected the right guy would come through the door,” she says.

Eventually, he kind of did. The man who became her husband had indeed visited Drip when he was single. But she had been in “business owner mode,” and they hadn’t met. “I had to make a commitment to myself to go outside of Drip and not always be in the working environment,” she reflects. “And then fate gave us another chance.”